Three Collisions With The Whoniverse
by WeepingAngel123
Summary: Lined up for you, yes YOU, today is: Lou&Andy, Carol Beer, and the ever famous Lauren Cooper! From Little Britain and the Catherine Tate Show. Three little one-shots packed into one chapter. "But am I bovvered?"


**A/N:- This started off as a five-chaptered thing, but I decided to mesh them up and just do this**** one-shoot! HOPE YOU LIKIES!!!!!!! Kind of AU, because Owen and Tosh are in this!**

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**1. Meet Andy and Lou.**

"Have you found anything you'd like for your birthday?" Lou asked Andy.

"Yep." Andy replied.

"What do you want?"

"That one."

"What? A 'K-9'. I'm not sure you'll like it."

"I want that one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"You do know: once I buy it, it'll be a robot-dog for life, not just for Christmas. Also, it'll be a big kerfuffle to take it back to the nice lady, Sarah Jane. You like robot dogs?"

"Yeah."

"Are you absolutely _sure_ you don't want to choose something different? Like the big, bat creature?"

"Yep."

_Twenty minutes later._

"Right, that's that done! I've bought the robot dog, for you, Andy. Don't you love it already? Isn't it lovely?" Lou exclaimed, as he bent over to pat K9's head affectionately. The tin dog jerked its head upwards and bleeped a "Master" politely.

"Lou," Andy said. "I want the big, bat creature."

**&&&&&&&&&&**

Sneaking out of his wheelchair and creeping behind Lou's turned back, Andy reached for the last donut. But as soon as Lou attempted to look round, Andy sped back to sit in his wheelchair – running around like the balding, fat, half-naked spring lamb, he was.

"I don't like it," he replied simply, stagnant and blinking furiously, behind steamed-up glasses.

"Why ever not? Yesterday, you said you really _really_wanted it. It's very pretty. Look at it," Lou rattled the large cage, which contained one sombre, bored, scowling and raw red Krillitane. "I worked very hard to catch it, wouldn't that be a waste? It's not good for the environment. Are you sure you don't want it, Andy?"

"Yeah I know. But I don't like it. I wanna throw it away. I want that one," Andy complained and pointed to the petit blue box with the words **Police Public Call Box **scrawled across the top, sitting across the road.

"I thought you didn't like the colour blue. You said it was the colour of a bluetit's fart."

"Yeah I know. I want it."

"I don't think that's for sale, Andy."

"I'm in a wheelchair – it can be arranged," Andy explained to Lou blatantly, jabbing his stubby impatient finger in the direction of the TARDIS – well, the name was unknown to them. He repeated himself: "I want that one!"

Suddenly, a man dressed fully in brown, who was bearing scruffy, electrified brown hair bounded unexpectedly out of the Blue Box. Lou sighed.

"OK then Andy," Lou said and ran across the road, leaving Andy to scamper off somewhere again. "Excuse me, Mr Owner of the Blue Box, could you lend a hand?"

"I'd love to!" the Doctor said, beaming, obviously unaware of what he was in for. Especially, 10 and a ¼ minute later, when one fat, _able_ Andy yelled, "I DON'T LIKE THIS!" from the interior of the TARDIS, as the Time Machine dematerialised and vanished from existence.

**2. Enter Carol Beer**

Britain has had rude and unhelpful receptionists for thousands of years, but Carol Beer exemplifies this fine tradition. We continue our journey at this hospital in Pennsylvania. The health service is free in Britain. But here in Pennsylvania, if you want to exploit moulding, second hand infections, you have to pay for them.

"Whoops! Silly me, looks like there's been a bit of a mix up. Computer says Michael Schwartz isn't dead!" she feigned a look of surprise and slapped her lips with the tips of her fingers, but the girls had already gone. She stretched her head up to check, before she sunk back down again and muttered furiously under her breath. "Freaking, little terrors."

Faking a smile and blowing a cough, Carol waved off the crying girls – whom of which she had _slowly_ offered her service to, displayed impolite, unhelpful behaviour and offended – all of which without much care or consideration.

Here we show a flashback of Carol's atrociously 'charming' behaviour:

"_Oh! Sso you want __me__ to help you find some old man who's got cancer in Ward 23?"_

"_Yes, please," the little girl asked politely. "And he's our granddad, not just an old man, by the way. Miss."_

"_Michael Schwartz?"_

"_Yep!"_

"_Let me just check," Carol irately jabbed away on her computer keyboard. She looked up with a deadpan expression. "Michael Schwartz… No such person. Died last week." she said. "You're a bit late."_

"_But we saw him yesterday! That can't be true!" wailed the blonde little girl._

"_Can you check again please?" the other girl piped up_

"_Computer says no," Carol replied blankly, not even bothering to 'check' her computer first._

_Both the girls' eye started to well up with tears. _

_Carol sighed and rattled the tin of biscuits, "I suppose you want me to offer you one of these biscuits now?"_

_They nodded._

"_Computer says no," she droned monotonously and added in a hiss, clutching a tin of chocolate biscuits to her chest protectively: "They're all mine! Don't you dare try to get your filthy paws on them. Why don't you just get lost and run back crying to your mummies now. Your innocent, blubbing eyes don't fool me…" _

Back in St. John's hospital - the bubbling crowds of hindered, irritated patients, careless doctors and smoking nurses suddenly scattered as low-pitched, robotic voices and furious, puffed stomping filled the air. The tall, silver metal frames of two cybermen appeared, as they stomped violently into the room, sending piles of paper flying into the air. Carol Beer's hair flapped up in the breeze and papers flew about frantically all around her, but she sat blinking calmly behind her ugly, thick-framed glasses and sat as still as a statue. Or, in our dear Carol's case, a rude, unhelpful and uneducated receptionist.

"Welcome to St. John's hospital, my name is Carol," she tranquilly asked the Cybermen clomping towards her. She blinked and frowned grumpily. The Cybermen approached her and stomped their feet a couple of times before stopping. "For goodness sake, how long do you take! Thank you – you got there in the end! Now, how can I help you?"

"You will be upgraded," the nearest Cyberman commanded, in an intimidating voice.

Carol looked unfazed, blinked rapidly and stared at them vacantly.

"Name?"

"We are the Cybermen!"

"Let me just check," Carol looked down to her computer screen, and randomly let her fingers dance across the keyboard., for a _very_ long time. Until she eventually stopped. "Computer says no."

"Excuse me?" another Cyberman bleeped.

"I SAID:" Carol projected her voice into a thick boom, rising from her swivel chair, as if talking to someone with extremely bad hearing. "THE. COMPUTER. SAYS. _NO_." She quietened her voice in irritation and sank back down to her seat, tapping the keys once more. "The computer says 'Cybermen' don't exist."

"Cybermen _do _exist – I am standing right here. Insolence will not be tolerated. You will be upgraded, or else you will be deleted!"

"Check again," the other Cyberman translated, with a robotic sigh.

"Wait, let me just check again for you," She jabbed away at the keyboard, clearly not intimidated by the Cybermen's threats. In fact, Carol Beer felt quite the opposite. "Ah there we are, computer's playing up today. Cybermen – large, metal, 'intimidating'--" Carol promptly crooked two fingers from each of her hands, for the latter word. "--creatures." She gave up reading from the screen and looked up impassively at the Cybermen. "Looks like Prince Charles, with more of the ears, and gone metal machine, and have Stephen Hawking's voice, only a whole lot more boring and annoying. Now, how can I help you?"

"You will be UPGRADED or deleted."

"Right, urgent personal problems submission. I'll just get the psychiatric department for you," Carol settled, (again), tapping away on her keyboard, pushing her glasses up a notch. She banged and jabbed the keyboard fervently, before she leaned back and smiled at the metal men. "Computer says 'do you want Doctor Timothy, Doctor Yana, the Doctor, Doctor Simjali or Doctor I-don't-give-a-crap'?"

"YOU ARE INCOMPATIBLE. YOU SHALL BE DELETED," the first Cybermen declared loudly. "BUT WE WILL SEE THE DOCTOR!"

Carol promptly 'typed' something up. She shook her head.

"Computer says no. No such person."

"BUT WE ARE THE CYBERMEN!"

More taps at her computer keyboard.

"Computers says _no_."

"If we cannot see the DOCTOR, you shall be deleted."

Some more jabbing of buttons.

"Computer says no."

"If you REFUSE, you will be DELETED. We ARE the CYBERMEN!"

Carol Beer sighed and tapped away, shaking her head.

"Computer says no."

_An hour__ minutes later_

"Computer _still_ says no."

"Insolence will not be tolera— Insol— Insol-- Malfunction! Malfunction!" the Cybermen cried out simultaneously. "KILL US…"

"The computer says _yes_. Now where's that shotgun?"

**3. And finally… Welcome Lauren Cooper!**

"Why we be in Cardiff, though?" Liese asked Lauren suddenly, leaning over the slick, black railings. She gestured the great Welsh signposts and huge area around her.

"Cos school's well boring."

"Innit."

"Dya get me?"

"Yeah…"

"No, I mean, dya _get me _though? School's like… Lessons. Books. Lessons. Teacher. Teacher. Am I bovvered? It's well boring," Lauren flung her tight, ginger ponytail hair back. "Cardiff's the new in now, righ'?"

"Righ'," they both chimed in unison.

"He's well ugly, he is," Lauren commented spontaneously, arms folded and face unfazed.

"Who?" Liese said, squinting her eyes into the distance.

"It be military boy, innit?" Lauren replied, nodding briskly at a tall, muscular figure dressed in a long, blue military coat. "Look at 'im - standing there like that. Finks he's so cool, he does."

"Ryan's way hotter."

"Tell me 'bout it," Lauren paused and stared at Liese, in shock. "You stealing my boyfriend? You disrespecting me? You disrespectin' my human righ's?"

"No, Lauren, I jus'…"

"You did it again"

"Lauren, Military Boy, he's--"

"You sound like a hippy, you do. Why you makin' fun of hippies? That's not righ', that ain't."

"But Lauren, though. But Military Dude an' these tasteless people, they're comin' this--"

"But 'm well right, I am - you sound like a righ' hippy, though!!"

"DONNA!" a man yelled, interrupting, his voice a thick drawl of American.

Lauren and Liese turned around just in time, to be joined by a crowd of five people, the tallest stood at the front – Military Boy.

"What you lookin' at?!" Lauren demanded bluntly, her hoop earrings jangling as she jerked her head at Military Boy.

"Donna, it's you! You look… different! Your accent's changed! No complaints from me, I like a girl with an accent," Captain Jack waggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively, but 'Donna' merely blinked. He frowned a little. "Anyway, where's the Doctor?"

"Who's _Donna_?" Liese asked in confusion.

"And who are _you_?" Captain Jack asked the pretty, young girl next to 'Donna'.

"You be well ugly. You're my type." Liese replied.

"My English teacher was the Doctor," Lauren put in. "He couldn't speak English – all I could hear was Martian."

The Military Man laughed good-naturedly and his four accomplices swapped raised eyebrows, "Great joke Donna! Now, where's the Doctor? I really need to find him, the Rift has--"

"Who are you weird people, though?"

"Oh, good thinking Donna, I haven't introduced Torchwood to you yet!"

"D'you fire up wood or summat? 'Oo's 'Donna'? Your pet monkey? Stop callin' me Donna. It's not funny, Military Boy. You don't even look good. You from the government? I don't care if you are, 'cos ain't bovvered. Are you from the government?"

"No, Donna, we're not. Torchwood is a private association," Jack was clearly _confused_ by all means, at this point, but continued. "We're outside the government and beyond the pol--"

"Can I _aks_ you a question?" Lauren interrupted and pointed at the Welsh lady with the jet-black hair and slender figure – otherwise known as one Gwen Cooper. "I said, can I aks you a question, though?"

"_She_ is Gwen Cooper, senior--" Captain Jack tried to answer.

"Who she work for though?"

"She works for Torchwood."

"Does she work for Torchwood?" Lauren pointed at Gwen again.

"Yes. I already said tha--"

"Does he work for Torchwood?"

She jabbed a finger in Ianto's direction, this time.

"Yes. Now, if you'd just--"

The Captain was cut off again.

"Does he work for Torchwood?"

She pointed at Owen, who winked at her.

"Yes," the Captain answered through gritted teeth.

"Does she work for Torchwood?"

Lauren pointed at Toshiko.

"Yep, now you know--"

The Captain caught Lauren's gaze and she jabbed an inquisitive finger in Jack's direction.

"Do _you_ work for Torchwood?"

"Yes, of course I do! Is there something wrong with--"

"Does she work for Torchwood?"

"They all work for Torchwood," Jack explained with a sigh.

She was currently pointing back at Ianto again.

WHAT WAS GOING ON WITH DONNA?!

"Are you very sure that some nasty alien hasn't taken a chunk outta your brain and changed you or something, Donna?"

"Stop callin' me Donna. I said stop callin' me Donna. I ain't no Donna."

"What are you talking--"

"Are you bein' rude to me? You're bein' rude to me!"

"You're being rude to 'er," Liese joined in. She doesn't like it, when guys are rude. Unless it's Ryan. She likes Ryan. He's well cute."

"No, I'm not, I'm just trying to find out--"

"You're doin' it again! You're bein' rude!"

"I'm sorry, but…"

"You in the army?"

"No, I am _not_ and--"

"I think you're in the army, though."

"But I'm not!"

"Don't you think so Liese?"

"Yeah, mate. Tell me about it."

"I think we need to get you back to your mother and--"

"Oh," Lauren's face dropped into a disgusted 'o' shape and she looked at the Captain with demonic eyes. "Are you disrespectin' my family? You disrespectin' the house of Cooper? You are? You callin' my mother a good-for-nothing cow? You sayin' my father's a badly, redundant pushover?"

"Donna, no, whoever you _claim to be_, I assure you – I am not disrespecting your family. Now, just please let me help--"

"But, he ain't even redundant, though," Lauren continued, ignoring Jack, with eyes to the sky and hands jerking about in mimicking gesture. "'E's not even redundant. He's jus' busy… Got betta things do than sit in the office and fix mugs, righ'. Sittin' on the couch, watchin' telly, righ'."

Captain Jack chortled with laughter suddenly and looked back to his team.

"She's still got the old temper!" Jack reassured them.

"I'll say…" Owen muttered. "Kinda hot."

"Now, you're laughing at me. That's disrespectful, that is," Lauren snapped bluntly.

"Innit, though," Liese agreed, popping a piece of gum into her mouth and chewing promptly.

"But, I ain't bovvered! Look at my face, I said look at my face Military Boy," Lauren demanded and Jack immediately stared at her, clicking his heels and saluting her.

"Yes, ma'am," he winked at her saucily. "I'd prefer if you didn't call me Military Boy. The name's Jack. Don't wear it out."

"Don't try to be smart wiv me, Military Boy. You ain't even funny," Lauren pointed to her face. "But am I bovvered?"

Captain Jack and his team stared blankly at her.

"Really, though. Am I bovvered? Look at my face, am I bovvered?" she continued with a flow of gestures to her face. "Face bovvered, bovvered face. Am I bovvered?"

"Look, I think we'll have to take you and your _lovely_ friend back down to the Hub to check you out. I don't think you're felling to well--"

"I ain't goin', 'cos I ain't bovvered."

"If we have to tranquillise you, we will, because you're not the Donna I know."

"Fancy coat."

"Owen, Tosh, prepare the… What?"

"Fancy coat," Lauren repeated. "It don't even look nice – it's shabby. I don't like shabby. I ain't bovvered."

"Ianto, get the--"

"I _said_, am I bovvered? Fancy coat. Donna, Donna. Am I bovvered?"

"GWEN!" Captain Jack ordered urgently. "Get the autopsy--"

"Autopsy bay. 'Doctor'. Do I look like I'm bovvered? Jack. Gwen. Tranquilliser. Am I bovvered? Firewood, Torchwood, whatever. Am I bovvered? Does my face _look_ bovvered to you?"

"That is it! We are going to find the Doc--"

"American accent. Doctor. Doctor. Am I bovvered? Alien. Alien. Brain. Memory. Face? Bovvered?"

_Several__ 'minutes' later_

"Once you remember, who you are, Donna – call me," Military Boy handed Lauren a small piece of card, with a mobile phone number and name scrawled all over it.

Lauren stared at him blankly, "I don't do Military Boys."

Lauren held it up in front of her face and ripped it up into tiny, little, white shreds. She dusted off her hands, as she let them float onto the ground. With that, Jack sighed and revved up the SUV and left Liese and Lauren on an empty street, in Chiswick.

"CHISWICK. CHISWICK. EMPTY ROAD. I STILL AIN'T BOVVERED!!!!!" Lauren yelled after the departing SUV car.

"We be goin' home?" Liese asked, popping her bubblegum.

"Maybe. But Military Boy was well fit, though."

"…" A small silence followed.

Lauren suddenly stared at the ripped shreds of paper on the floor, "You think I should call 'im?"

**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&A/N:- YEP! I cheated, a bit… The last one was more Torchwood than anything! HEEHAW! Hoped you enjoyed reading it and *showers with rainbows* to anyone who cares to post a review! They're muchio luuuuurved! **

**=D =D =D =D =D**


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